A Moment
by Just-Chiara
Summary: The most precious times in life are when two souls touch.  Can be read as gen or pre-slash. Spoilers up to S3. Beta read by nyktohrodon on LJ .


The most precious times in life are when two souls touch. It can be the moment you get married to the love of your life, the first time you hold your child, the arms of your best friend around you just when you need it, the right word at the right time. It can even be just a glance – if it's the right one.

* * *

**Las Vegas, 1990**

Spencer felt the panic grow as the last group of students left, leaving him alone taped to the flagpole. He had thought he'd be relieved since it meant the staring and the laughs were over. But he also knew it meant no one was going to help him. His mum surely wasn't going to look for him; she probably didn't even notice he was already late. And really, there was no one else since his dad left a few months before.

He'd forbid himself from crying in front of the bullies, forced his mind not to think about what was happening, recited the periodic table in his head a hundred times. Now that he was alone, though, there was no point anymore and the tears he'd held till that moment started to fall.

He wanted to scream. He hated those football players, and he hated the students who just stood there and watched even more. They probably thought themselves innocent in the whole matter. If some teacher or parent was ever to ask about it, they could say they didn't to anything wrong—but they didn't do anything right, either.

Most of all, Spencer hated his mind, if he'd been a normal kid, he wouldn't have been picked on. Hell, he wouldn't have been in high school in the first place. He would have been an average fifth-grader and his dad would pick him up from school every day.

He heard footsteps from behind him and hoped, _prayed_, that it was the janitor. Michelle was always nice to him. She would help him down, give him something warm to drink and even drive him home.

But it wasn't Michelle. Spencer couldn't tell who it was exactly, because his glasses were on the pavement and the tears made his vision even blurrier. He could tell by the orange and green t-shirt that it was one of the football players.

The football player was in front of him now. He looked down at his shoes for a few moments then he stepped closer, cut the tape with a small knife and helped Spencer down. Spencer almost lost his balance, but the hand on his arm steadied him. Then the football player handed him his glasses and his books.

"What's your name, kid?"

"Spencer."

"I'm going to walk you home. Okay, Spencer?"

* * *

**Washington DC, present**

Reid's eyes met Morgan's. He'd never told anyone else about being bullied in school. Those close to him knew it anyway because they'd picked up the clues, but this was different. This was Spencer Reid lowering his defenses and letting someone in, letting someone see his scars.

Morgan didn't say anything. Didn't need to. He just stared right back at him, memories of his own flashing back into his mind.

* * *

**Chicago, 1986**

Derek was walking home from school, backpack on one shoulder. A girl looked at him and at his football jersey and winked; Derek didn't even know her name. He smiled at her, but didn't stop to talk to her. He had other things on his mind; or really, other things he was trying to keep out his mind.

He made it all the way to his house and almost took the keys out of his pocket before turning around and walking back towards the school.

He'd tried not to think about what he'd done, tried to shrug it off, to tell himself that boy was going to be okay. But a voice inside his head kept telling him that he was just a coward. That he should have stopped his teammates, told them to leave the kid alone.

He didn't want to be that kid, the one who watches and does nothing while another boy gets bullied. His mum taught him better. If she'd known, she would have looked at him shaking her head disapprovingly, and she would have reminded him of who his dad was.

Derek wanted to be like his dad, he really did. He wanted to join the police and be a hero just like him. But in that moment he wasn't sure he could do it. He was a coward; just a stupid little coward who couldn't even stand up to his teammates.

When he got to the school yard, the boy was still there, crying.

"Look… uhm," Derek said. "I'm sorry, okay?" He cut him down and helped gather his things from the ground. The kid kept looking at him like he was waiting for him to start beating on him.

Derek sighed. "I'm not going to hurt you, I promise. I just want to— I'm just doing what I should have done earlier. I'm sorry I didn't. Are you —are you okay?"

The kid nodded slightly.

"I'm going to walk you home, now. And you don't have to worry about coming to school tomorrow, or any other day. I won't let them hurt you again."

_I won't be a coward anymore. My dad will be proud of me._

* * *

**Washington DC, present**

In that moment, their souls touched.


End file.
